"General, we have finally managed to breach the German defenses. However, we were eventually driven out. The Germans even deployed tanks!" an officer reported to General Haig.
"Curse them!" General Haig swore, his brow furrowing. He could keenly sense that this might have been their only chance to break through the German lines. Should they miss this opportunity, the ensuing struggle would undoubtedly become far more arduous.
Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was already 2 a.m. on August 22nd, with just three hours remaining until dawn. Once the sun rose, the Germans would undoubtedly unleash a furious barrage against the British forces. Haig did not believe that, under the relentless bombardment from the German Navy and the ferocious strafing and bombing from their aircraft, the British could endure much longer. What awaited them, he feared, was a catastrophic rout.
"No, we cannot concede just yet. If we do, defeating the Germans will become even more impossible," General Haig silently admonished himself. If they failed to accomplish their objectives now, the German elite forces would launch an even fiercer assault. Would they be able to hold? Haig was not confident. Even though Maegert had mustered two British army groups, some 400,000 men, he still had no sense of certainty in his heart.
"Order the 4th Infantry Division to engage immediately! This time, we must tear open the German defenses!" General Haig grit his teeth and issued the command. With no other choice, he ordered the additional reserves to be thrown into the fray.
The urgency was felt throughout the British 2nd and 3rd Army Groups as well. They knew they were in a do-or-die situation, continually pouring more reserves into the assault. If it weren't for the narrowness of the German defenses, which limited the number of troops that could be committed, they might have sent even more soldiers. Of course, increasing the number of troops would also make the formations dense, which would only lead to even greater losses under the Germans' concentrated fire.
The fierce battle raged on the western shores of the Dover Strait, as hundreds of thousands of British and German elite troops fought in a brutal and bloody struggle. The beach was already covered in a thick layer of bodies, and the sand was soaked with blood. The stench of death hung in the air, thick and nauseating.
Yet, despite the carnage, no one seemed to care about the gruesome scene. What mattered was how to defeat the enemy, how to annihilate them. This was a matter of national destiny for both sides. Thus, these brave soldiers cast aside the fear of death and threw themselves wholeheartedly into the carnage. Only when the enemy was obliterated, or they themselves lay dead, would the fighting cease.
"Kill!"
A squad of British soldiers charged the German lines, and a vicious hand-to-hand combat ensued. Bayonets plunged deeply into enemy flesh, the resistance of the blades as they pierced the bodies coupled with the blood-curdling screams from the dying, sent a chill down the spine. But on the battlefield, few gave such matters a second thought. They had to be ruthless, for if they were not, it might be their own lives they lost.
As the brutal clash continued, the German defenses, though repeatedly breached, held firm after each German reserve force joined the fray, driving the British back and securing the lines.
The artillery fire from both sides boomed incessantly. Despite suffering significant losses under the onslaught of British artillery, the Germans retaliated with their own naval bombardment, inflicting heavy casualties on the British gunners.
"What's the situation at the front?" Admiral Hamilton asked, his nerves frayed as though ants scurrying on a hot pan.
"General, we've breached the German lines multiple times, but each time we've been repelled. The losses to the attacking forces are considerable. Several army groups have already committed additional reserves, yet we still cannot break through. The Germans still control their defenses. The front is now making a final push," the aide-de-camp reported.
"Damn it! After losing so many men, we still can't crack their defenses? How can we keep fighting this battle?" Admiral Hamilton cursed.
If they couldn't drive the Germans into the sea now, it would mean a prolonged and grueling struggle ahead, something that would be deeply disadvantageous to the British Army.
A successful beach landing often resulted in heavy German casualties, but if they lost that advantage and resorted to a protracted field battle, the British would stand no chance against the Germans. Even though they had a numerical advantage, their elite troops could barely hold their own against the Germans—let alone the newly conscripted soldiers, who were ill-prepared for such combat and might only be a liability on the battlefield.
"Send a telegram to the front lines, order them to attack at all costs, no matter the losses. We are running out of time, and we must press the advantage. If we don't act swiftly, the consequences will be dire!" Admiral Hamilton commanded.
At this critical juncture, he could only continue to apply pressure to the front-line commanders, though whether it would have any effect, he himself did not know.
At 4 a.m., at the German Army Air Force base on the Calais coast, ground crews were refueling planes and loading ammunition, while the pilots ate their breakfast. Though the sky had yet to lighten, they had to be ready. As soon as the sun rose, they would take to the skies.
On the western shore of the Strait, the Army and Marine Corps were locked in a deadly struggle with the enemy. If they didn't launch their attack in time, reinforcements would be unable to reach the front, and the losses for the soldiers there would only increase.
At 4:30 a.m., the pilots began boarding the planes. A faint light had already appeared on the horizon.
Twenty minutes later, the command tower issued the order to launch.
One by one, fighter planes and bombers took off, soaring into the sky, heading towards the western shore of the Strait. With their speed, they would be over the battlefield in mere minutes.
On the front lines, both the attacking British forces and the defending Germans were utterly exhausted. The only comfort for the Germans was that their defenses still held, and their counteroffensive was soon to begin.